Five Encounters With The Teacher's Pet
by astudyinotters
Summary: As a Junior in College, Kurt Hummel has one gen-ed class left.  When he signs up, he's happy enough, but when he meets his teacher, Mr. Anderson, he falls hard.  This is a fill for the Glee-Kink-Meme.
1. First Encounter

**A/N: *cautiously peeks around corner* Hey guys. Sorry I've been MIA for so long. Things here have been super crazy, and my muse has vanished... I'm trying to get everything back on track, but I'm having trouble writing some scenes for the "Models and Jocks" verse. Bear with me guys, and I'll complete it... eventually! And the Snapple Facts fic should have an update soon, I've picked my next fact, and have started writing, but I'm waiting on SammieRie to get to hers too! Well, anways, this is a fill from the Glee-Kink-Meme, but I can't remember where from. (I'll go back and Find it later, when I have more time). Basically, it was inspired by a super hot GIF (also, I can't Find it right now... Gah) and well, this baby popped out. I hope you enjoy it!**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Glee, Darren Criss, and/or Chris Colfer. I'm just playing with their characters. I am also not making any money or profit from this (unless you count feedback)**

**Warnings: The beginning chapters will be pretty bland rating wise, but will increase as the story progresses. Warnings for sex will precede their corresponding chapters.**

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><p>1.) The first encounter.<p>

I was in my third year of fashion design school in New York, and I was happy to say I was almost done with my general education classes. I had taken math and science courses first, followed by the required history classes. Now, I was able to take a class I had been looking forward to for two years: Creative Writing.

Most of my classmates told me that it was used as a "catch all" course, but I had always loved writing and was looking forward to increasing my skills. Walking into class the first day, I was pleased to find that the classroom was warm, and that I wouldn't be needing the completely unfashionable, but oh so warm sweatshirt rolled up in my bag, allowing me to show off my favorite shirt from my summer designing. It's a powder blue, gauzy tank top paired with a pair of tan shorts (Marc Jacobs, of course) and some sandals. Mercedes had dubbed my look "chic islander."

The classroom's setup was pretty regular, chairs in a block six seats across and five back, the teacher's desk in the front. Smiling at the relatively empty classroom, I strutted into the room like I owned it and sat down in my usual seat: fourth chair from the door in the second row. I was close enough to the front that I'd pay attention, but far enough that I wouldn't strain my neck. I watched the door, looking at the other students as they walked through the doorway, waving to the few that I knew, and smiling at the ones I didn't. Two minutes before class was slotted to start, everyone was seated and we were waiting for our teacher: Mr. Anderson.

He walked through the doorway just a moment later, a nice briefcase clasped in his left hand, a cup of coffee in his right. His dark hair was gelled off to the side, a few curls breaking free of the style, dropping down into pools of jaded honey. His skin was nicely tanned- the kind you get from spending a lot of time in the sun. He stood a few inches shorter than me, approximately 5'8" to my 5'11", and was lean and slightly muscled. If that wasn't enough, the man was wearing black slacks, a light green button down, and a bowtie. He was beautiful and masculine, and oh did I want to run my tongue along those rosy, full lips…

"Good morning, class. My name is Mr. Anderson, and I'll be your teacher this semester. You can all call me Blaine though," he said, introducing himself.

Oh sweet GaGa, his _voice_. It sounded as if someone had captured the sound of smoke, velvet, and had blended them together with molasses. It was rich and curled around me, almost eliciting a small groan. He seemed young for a college professor, his smile bright, causing crinkles around his eyes that disappeared as he asked a question. Oh, right, our names and majors.

One by one, we introduced ourselves to our professor, a few of the girls blushing and tripping over their words at Blaine's intense gaze. Before I knew it, Shane was finishing up with a shrug of his shoulders, and those eyes- so alight with excitement- were fixed on me.

I couldn't breathe or speak around the insane lump in my throat. It diminished slightly after I forced myself to swallow dryly. I introduced myself in a slightly squeaky voice, giving Blaine my name and my major. Blaine repeated my name to himself once, smiling brightly at me before moving on to the next person. After he'd learned all our names, he told us a little bit about himself. How he boxed and fenced in high school and was a member of the glee club, how he graduated two years ago from Harvard (making him only four years older than me) and started teaching last year. Oh God, I was starting to fall for this man, my _teacher_, and I knew it.

At the end of class, we all received our syllabus and our first homework assignment along with it. "Enjoy your first day of classes, and I can't wait to read what you've written," Blaine said, waving slightly as we filed out of class. I felt a blush heat up my cheeks as his intense gaze followed me out, raking up and down my form. Damn. My name is Kurt Hummel, and I'm crushing on my English Teacher, who just checked me out.


	2. Second Encounter

**A/N: Hey guys! Here's the second installment of this fic! It's going to be five installments long, so keep coming back for more! I'll try to have an update every day, but no promises! I have a boyfriend now, and I'm guilty of spending a lot of time at his place, and he doesn't have internet. And as always, please send me a review!**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Glee, Chris Colfer, and/or Darren Criss. I am not making any profit, nor money off of my works. **

**WARNINGS: This chapter is pretty mild. There may be some cussing, but I can't remember... Beware!**

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><p>2.) Second Encounter<p>

I didn't talk to Blaine again until two class periods later. We had been discussing our character sketches, and potential plot lines. The assignment was to take a cliché (I had drawn "Forbidden Love") and write a fresh take on it. Doing small plot sketches, I decided to go with the "student-teacher" relationship between a young college professor and his older student. Foreign concept, I know. How ever am I going to come up with inspiration? For all of you who didn't already know, that was a prime example of sarcasm.

Anyways, half way through class, Blaine stopped us and handed out small slips of paper. "All right, everyone! We're going to be doing some characterizations exercises. On your slip of paper, there is a number and a few facts. You will be responsible for pairing up based on your numbers and will be interacting as your characters. Go," Blaine explained, handing me my slip of paper, brushing his fingers against mine as he did. Opening my slip, I saw a black three scrawled in neat, cramped writing, my prompt typed just below.

_You've just suffered a break up with your significant other of three years and aren't sure if you're ready to start dating again. You're having a few drinks to numb the sorrow, and don't want to tell your exercise partner the real reason you're there._

"Well, since we're one short, I'll be working with the student who has slip number three," Blaine said, scanning the class for his partner. Feeling butterflies flap around my stomach, I rose from my seat and approached my professor.

"I'm the one with number three," I explained, sitting in a chair close to Blaine.

"Great, I'll start the scene then," he said, taking a moment to get into character. Before speaking again, he grabbed two red solo cups from his desk drawer and handed one to me. I accepted the cup with a frown, feeling myself sink into character. Pretending to drink from the plastic, I stared at the wall in front of me, my eyes turning steely as I allowed my focus to drift ever so slightly. I barely registered it when my professor sat down next to me.

"Hi. Haven't seen you around here before. My name's Blaine," he said, smiling brightly at me.

"Kurt," I replied, drinking again.

"Well, Kurt, what brings you here tonight?" Blaine asked, placing a hand on my shoulder.

"I don't really want to talk about it," I replied, shrugging off his hand.

"Okay, Ill let it slide. Tell me about yourself, Kurt. What do you do for a living? For fun? Seeing anybody?" Blaine asked, rapid firing some questions at me.

"I'm a fashion designer by trade, but I love baking, and I am currently single," I replied, staring at the bottom of my cup bitterly. "And you?"

"I'm a lawyer, but I love to sing, and I'm single too, unless you're willing to change that," he replied, winking at me.

Shaking my head, I rose form my seat. "No thanks. I'm not in a position to be dating anyone right now," I replied, swirling the air in my glass.

"Whoa, please, don't go. Sorry if I was too forward. It's just, you have the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen," he said, flushing slightly.

"Really?" I asked, taken aback by Blaine's comment. He was probably just acting, but I was still touched by his little compliment.

"Really. And your legs look fantastic in those jeans. Are they YSL?" he asked.

I was shocked. Not many people could tell the difference between designer jeans and regular ones, much less tell me what brand they were. "They are, and thank you," I replied, feeling my own cheeks color.

"And you're gorgeous when you blush," Blaine added, raising a hand to cup my cheek. This time, I allowed his touch, even leaned into it for a moment before I remembered I was supposed to be heartbroken and pulled away.

"Look, you seem like a nice guy, but I'm not ready for a relationship yet," I said frowning.

"Beautiful, what's wrong? Anything I can do to make you feel better?" he asked, leaning close to me like he cared.

"You could stop asking me about it," I snarked, pulling away.

Blaine threw his hands up in surrender. "Ok, but have one dance with me? Maybe it'll be what you need," he said, invading my personal space. His face was only a few inches away form mine, and his breath smelled like the coffee he always drank. His honey orbs were darkened, the pupil dilated. Blaine's lips were slightly parted, and my gaze dropped to them when his pink tongue slipped out to wet them.

"Maybe I don't need a dance," I whispered, licking my own lips in response. Blaine's eyes dropped to my lips and lingered there before flickering back up to my eyes and flushed cheeks before leaning in even more.

"And that concluded our exercises for today. No homework over the weekend," Blaine stuttered, jerking away from me, taking a deep breath and running a hand through his gelled hair, messing it up. Slightly confused at my professor's sudden change in attitude, I gathered my papers and bent down to retrieve my bag, smirking at the low groan he emitted. Then, with a little more swagger in my hips than usual, I exited Blaine's classroom before calling Rachel, my best friend and roommate. I knew for sure that Blaine was interested. Now I just had to work out how to approach him.

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><p><strong>AN: I hope you enjoyed the second installment of this fic! Third one should be up tomorrow!**

**Please review!**

**Hugs and butterfly kisses,**

**Music**


	3. Third Encounter

**A/N: It's here! The third installment is here! I hope you guys like this one! :) As always, please send a review!**

**DISCLIAMER: I do not own Glee, Chris Colfer, Darren Criss, and/or Lea Michele. I am only borrowing their lovely characters. I am also not making any profit, nor money off of my works.**

**WARNINGS: A few foul words, I think. There'll be smut in the next chapter.**

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><p>3.) It was a while until I actually talked to Blaine again. I chose to tease him by practically fellatiating my pens and bringing focus to my erogenous zones (neck, collarbone, and forearms. Thanks, Santana) while wearing every pair of skinnies I had. Each new class period produced a more flustered Blaine, and I was loving it. Today we were handing in rough drafts of our short stories (15 pages, double spaced, with all original characters). The ending of mine was pretty much porn, and I knew it was risky, but if the lusty glances Blaine keeps sending me are any indication of his feelings, I should be fine. Today for class, I was wearing a pair of regular blue jeans and a white three quarters length shirt with the sleeves bunched up above my elbows. A black, leather biker jacket and my black work boots completed the ensemble. Somehow, Rachel had messed up my laundry and washed the clothes I had laid out for today, but I guess I should thank her; Blaine's eyes raked up and down my form and his breath hitched. When he blushed and attempted to secretly push down on his crotch, I decided that I'd buy Rachel dinner at her favorite vegan restaurant down town.<p>

"Okay, class, today I want you to group up into three groups and pick one story to workshop. As soon as your group is finished, you'll turn in your drafts and then you're free to leave," Blaine said before clapping his hands once and shouting "Go!". I grouped up with the people around me and we started workshopping Jeremy's piece. (He's a rather dreadful writer, and needs all the help he can get." Despite the typos and grammatical errors, his tale about two childhood friends turned lovers was charming. It also doubled as the five-year anniversary gift to his girlfriend.

We finished only ten minutes before class ended, an exhausted Jeremy offering to buy us pizza for our help. I declined politely (hello, pizza goes straight to my hips_ and turned in my paper with a wink before going home to shower. I also had to plan my outfit for our next class, and I had to take Rachel out. She really was a Godsend sometimes.

Arriving home, I went straight to my closet and leafed through everything. My outfit had to be perfect, and something Blaine hadn't seen yet, which eliminated all of my skinny jeans. Damn. I had just started looking through my collection of leggings when Rachel burst in through the door, bag of take-out with her. Damn. There went my "Thank you" plan. Maybe I'll take her out tomorrow or something.

"Kurt! How was your day?" she asked, knocking at my bedroom door.

"Fantastic, Rachel. Can you come in? I have some questions," I said, walking out of my closet, a pew pairs of leggings in my hands. I know what you're thinking. "Rachel has _terrible_ fashion sense, Kurt! Why are you asking her?" The answer is simple: her style has matured since starting college, and the crazy sweaters only come out at Christmas.

"Planning your next outfit for Professor Anderson?" she asked, nudging me in the side. My only response was my signature "Bitch, please" face. She laughed and walked into my closet, pulling out a few items.

"I know it's risky, but I definitely think you should wear this to class," Rachel said emerging with a few garments draped over her arm. She laid them out on my bed one by one. White button down shirt, grey and black vest, skinny black tie, my silver warbler brooch and… oh my God, the forest green and black plaid kilt I'd worn to my senior prom. Fuck, that was going to be one hell of a gamble.

"You really think I can wear this?" I asked, picking up the kilt.

"I _know_ you can wear this. It makes your legs look extra long. If Professor Anderson is really lusting after you, he'll eat it up. Just wear your tight black boxers, we don't want anything to peek out from underneath," Rachel replied winking at me. "Now come on! I brought take-out, and we're going to watch 'Funny Girl'!"

My mind reeling, I followed Rachel, but didn't pay much attention to the ovie. Instead, I spent the time thinking about Blaine and hoping I didn't scare him off with my paper.

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><p><strong>AN: And the Third Encounter is finished! I hope you all enjoyed it and will tell me what you think through a review!**

**Hugs and butterfly kisses,**

**Music**


	4. Fourth Encounter

**A/N: So, I am disgusted with myself for letting this go for so long without finishing it. I've gone through a lot of things over the past year or so, and my muse just up and vanished; I'm just now getting everything sorted and such. Hopefully the last chapter will be done within the next week or two, but no promises (I've got a lot planned for it, so we'll see).**

**Warnings: Explicit Male on Male sex. If this is not your thing, then I suggest going elsewhere.**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own glee or any of the actors that portray their respective characters, nor am I receiving any money or wealth from my stories.**

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><p>I found myself nervous as I walked to Professor Anderson's class. Just as Rachel suggested, I was dressed in my white button down, grey and black vest, skinny black tie, my old warbler brooch, black Doc Martins, and the green and black kilt I had worn to my senior prom. I was dressed to kill, and my outfit combined with my latest assignment would hopefully do just that.<p>

I arrived at class early, as per usual, and sauntered in, trying to hold my nerves in check. A few of my classmates snickered at the sight of my kilt, but I brushed them off; after all, I was most interested in how Professor Anderson reacted. Jeremy wolf whistled and plopped down in the seat next to me.

"Dressing up for the Professor?" he asked, winging at me. I felt my cheeks heat up in embarrassment.

"Perhaps," I replied, hesitantly meeting my classmate's eyes.

"Good," Jeremy replied, placing a hand on my shoulder. "You two need to stop dancing around each other and fuck already."

If I had been drinking something, I would have choked. "Are you serious?" I asked, my expression no doubt broadcasting the surprise and shock I was feeling.

Jeremy just laughed. "Well, yeah. You two seem to have been eye-fucking each other when you think no one else is watching. Half the class has bets for when you two finally get together," he replied, smirking. I stared in awe at my classmate, his words playing on repeat through my mind. I knew Professor Anderson had checked me out a few times, but if Jeremy was right, he was definitely interested. Dear God, I hope he liked my paper. Maybe my Professor had even gotten off from it…

My thoughts were interrupted when Professor Anderson stumbled into the classroom, his normally pristine hair ruffled and falling into his eyes. His shirt was partially untucked, and his tie was stained with coffee. Papers were sticking out of his briefcase, and his eyes were wild, seemingly turned dark from lust. My breath caught in my throat as my Professor's eyes locked on mine, his gaze telling me that, _yes_, he did want me. Silently, Professor Anderson handed back our rough drafts before taking his place at the front of the classroom. I gulped when I paged through my work and found nothing but the words "See me after class" written in red ink.

I bit my lip. Maybe I was wrong, and the look I thought was lust was actually fury, disgust, or some other vile emotion? What if he hated it? I had dug myself a particularly deep grave and now I was going to lie in it. How could I be so stupid – I was torn from my thoughts when Jeremy nudged my shoulder.

"Class is over, man. I'll see you next time, ok?" he said, winking at me again before walking out of the classroom, the rest of my classmates following him. Taking a deep breath, I stood from my seat and cautiously approached my Professor's desk.

"You wanted to see me, Professor?" I asked, my voice calm and steady despite my nervousness.

Professor Anderson ran a hand through his curls as he turned to look at me.

"Kurt, I think we need to have a talk… about your paper," he said, his voice tight and high.

"Yes, Professor? Was it unsatisfactory?" I asked, fidgeting with my sleeve cuffs.

Professor Anderson blushed and sighed. "I'm not sure I'd say 'unsatisfactory', Kurt. It was more along the lines of _explicit_," he replied, raising his gaze to mine again. His eyes were still, what I assumed to be, blown out with lust. I couldn't help but blush under his gaze.

"Is that a problem, Professor Anderson? You never did say we had to keep it 'family friendly'," I asked, gaining a bit of courage. My Professor's eyes squeezed shut as he took a shaky breath.

"I suppose not, but fuck, Kurt, it's a little relatable, don't you think?" he countered.

I smiled softly. "I'm well aware of that, Professor. Honestly, that was my intention," I admitted.

As soon as that confession left my mouth, Professor Anderson's eyes snapped open, and he gaped at me. I blinked a few times owlishly and tried to come up with something else to say, but before I could manage more than a few unintelligible squeaks, Professor Anderson had stood up and invaded my personal space, one hand tracing over my bottom lip.

"Kurt," he breathed, "please, say I can kiss you…"

My response wasn't a verbal one, choosing instead to lean in and kiss my Professor, moaning softly when one of his hands fisted into my hair, the other settling on my lower back.

It didn't take long for Professor Anderson to press against me, his cock hard in his pants, his hands roaming my body. Using my Professor's shoulders for leverage, I wiggled my way up on is desk, wrapping my legs around his waist. I moaned loudly when my cock ground against my Professor's, a stream of filthy thoughts running through my mind. When Professor Anderson broke the kiss, his eyes were even more crazed and dark than they had been at the beginning of class.

"Kurt, please," he whined, "let me fuck you."

With a smirk, I pushed him away and sauntered to my school bag, bending down to retrieve the bottle of lube and box of condoms I had placed there earlier this morning. I heard my Professor groan when he saw my ass against the fabric of my kilt.

"Where do you want me, Professor?" I purred, pressing the necessary supplies into his hands.

"You little minx!" he exclaimed, staring at the lube. "You planned this!"

I smirked and wiggled out of my boxers, tossing them aside before bending over his desk. "Well, I certainly hoped this would be the outcome," I replied. "Now, I seem to recall you said something about fucking me, Professor?"

That was all it took for Professor Anderson to fall back into a lust-filled haze. He flipped up the back of my kilt and ran his fingers over the pale skin of my ass, his fingernails digging in every now and then, delivering delicious shocks of pain.

"God, I'm going to fuck you so hard, Kurt," he growled, slapping my ass with the palm of his hand.

"Have I been naughty, Professor?" I asked, wiggling my ass at him slightly.

"Yes," he moaned, slapping my other cheek, "and naughty boys get their delectable asses _pounded_." A moment later, I felt two fingers rubbing against my hole, pushing in roughly when there was enough lube. I couldn't help the keen that was torn from my throat, for my Professor knew exactly where to touch. I moaned when Professor Anderson chuckled in my ear, his fingers stretching me open.

"You like that, huh?" he growled, his voice becoming deeper and rougher with arousal. "Like to have your Professor's fingers inside your gorgeous ass?"

I moaned for him again. "I'm sure I'd like your cock inside me more, Professor," I replied, breathlessly aching back into his touch.

Professor Anderson chuckled again and pulled his fingers roughly from my ass. I whined at the loss, and was about to look over my shoulder to see what was happening, but one hand pressed between my shoulder blades was enough to keep me still.

A few agonizing moments later, Professor Anderson was spreading my ass cheeks and pushing his length inside me.

"Fuck!" my Professor Anderson exclaimed, his hands squeezing my ass hard. "You are so God damned tight!"

My only response was a throaty moan when he started moving, his cock rubbing against my prostate over and over.

"Feels so good, baby," Professor Anderson moaned. "Wanted this for so long."

"Me too," I admitted, arching back against my lover, forcing his cock deeper inside my body. "Please, Professor, let me ride you," I begged, letting my head fall forward on his desk.

"Yes," he hissed, pulling out roughly, hurrying to sit in his chair, hand stroking his glistening cock. Eagerly, I straddled my Professor, guiding his cock back inside my ass, stealing a kiss when I was fully seated on his lap.

The kiss was messy and consisted mostly of clashing teeth and lip biting, but it was so _good_, matching the fast pace I had set bouncing up and down on his cock.

"Fuck, Kurt," Professor Anderson groaned. "Gonna cum soon," he moaned, sucking a mark into my neck.

"Me too," I replied, my thrusting irregular now.

"Cum for me, Kurt," my Professor growled. "Cum for me _now_."

Obedient as always, I came at Professor Anderson's demand, moaning his name as I peaked. He followed shortly after, spilling his seed inside my ass, his forehead resting against mine. When our breathing evened out, he leaned in to kiss me before pulling back, a huge smile on his face.

"Was it good?" I asked, running a hand through my hair. Professor Anderson nodded.

"Best fuck ever," he confirmed, thrusting his hips up, his softening cock slipping from between my cheeks.

"Does this mean I can see you again?" I asked, rising from my Professor's lap, straightening out my kilt.

"You better believe it does," Professor Anderson replied, pulling me back for another kiss. "I fully expect you to come home with me tomorrow night, for the weekend, so plan accordingly, Kurt."

I hummed in contentment as I picked up my book bag. "It's a date, Professor," I purred, winking as I made for the door. My Professor pulled me back at the last moment, pushing my forgotten underwear into my hand.

"Please, call me Blaine outside the classroom," he said, his honey eyes sparkling with mischief. I smirked up at my Professor.

"Of course, _Blaine_," I replied, pushing the underwear into my bag. "What time, and where, do I meet you tomorrow?"

My Professor grinned and pulled me close, wrapping his arms around my waist. "Meet me here after lunch. I know for a fact you have Friday afternoons free, and I'm canceling my last class," he replied before leaning to kiss me deeply, his excitement for the upcoming weekend very evident; his cock was already getting hard again.

"I'll be here at noon," I stated, dropping my hand to squeeze his cock once before winking and walking out of the classroom. I had just fucked my very attractive teacher, _and_ had managed to secure a whole weekend of fucking with him. Needless to say, I was on cloud nine, and nothing was going to ruin it for me.

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><p><strong>AN: And there you have it. Please let me know if you find any typos or things that don't make sense. I hope you've enjoyed this installment of _Five Encounters with the Teacher's Pet_.**

**~Music**


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